


James Bond Would Never Abuse a Suit Like That

by faequeentitania



Series: Beyond the Diner [5]
Category: Cracked - Ambiguous Fandom, Cracked.com, Cracked: After Hours
Genre: Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, OT4, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Spanking, Submissive Soren, Suit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 17:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10575984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faequeentitania/pseuds/faequeentitania
Summary: “Tell me your safeword,” Michael murmured, and Soren froze, mind racing. He had most certainlynottold Michael about that little side of his sexuality, and panic was starting to rise in his throat.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Michael oversteps his bounds a little bit in the beginning, but he corrects course very shortly after.
> 
> Solo Michael/Soren is such a rarepair in this already tiny fandom, but it's hella fun to write. They have a great, antagonistic push-pull, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

It was fair to say that after the “Bond Incident,” they were all pretty mad at Michael. Thank god they were regulars, and showing the diner staff that the gun Michael had was full of blanks that they used for Cracked videos was enough to get them off with only a stern talking to and double their bill in reparation.

Needless to say, however, it put a bit of a damper on their usual enthusiasm for their typical after-diner activities. So much so that they decided to call it off for the weekend.

Soren was still fuming as he drove Michael home. If it were up to him, he would have made the idiot hitchhike his way. Unfortunately Daniel knew just the right buttons to coax him into playing nice, so here he was.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly and grit his teeth as Michael hummed the Bond theme, playing with his cufflinks.

“So is it the suit thing or the Bond thing?” Michael suddenly asked, and Soren frowned.

“What?”

“What's doing it for you, just the fact that it's a suit and that's sexy, or is it a hero hard-on you get from the suit association with James Bond?”

Soren bristled. Michael should really not be that good at reading him. The truth of the matter was, he wasn’t entirely sure himself. There was no denying, though, that seeing Michael dressed up was unexpectedly hot, which was as troubling as it was frustrating.

“Michael, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on,” Michael smirked, “Don't think I didn't see you eying me up all day. You were practically salivating.”

Soren chortled, giving Michael an incredulous look.

Michael grinned a little wider, tugged on his lapels sharply and raised his eyebrows.

“You really aren't as impressive as you think you are,” Soren informed him, putting his eyes back on the road.

“Aw, come on Soren, you don't have to be shy!” Michael said with dripping sweetness, hedging a little closer and reaching a hand out to stroke Soren’s thigh.

Soren gave him a stern glare, but Michael ignored it.

“Come along, Moneypenny,” Michael did a pretty terrible British accent, “You know you want to. No shame in it, darling.”

“Oh god, spare me,” Soren rolled his eyes, “Stop embarrassing Bond.”

Michael chuckled and shrugged one shoulder.

Soren sighed as they pulled up to a red light. Michael seemed to take it as his cue to trail his hand higher up Soren’s thigh, rubbing and squeezing gently.

Soren considered stopping him. He should, really. Michael had nearly gotten them banned from their favorite diner, potentially arrested, ruined a perfectly good suit by taking terrible care of it, had argued _against_ James Bond, and to top it all off, had flustered Daniel so much with the whole incident that they’d called off their usual sexy weekend activities. He didn't deserve to be feeling Soren up. Even if he _did_ look really good in a suit.

“Michael, get off me,” he growled, getting angrier the more he thought about it, “You’re an asshole.”

Michael sighed, but withdrew his hand.

A few more blocks and they were at Michael's apartment.

Michael got out of the car, but instead of heading inside, he zipped around to Soren’s door and opened it.

“What the fuck-” Soren started to ask angrily, but then Michael was crouched down and pressing his face into Soren’s crotch.

Soren gasped as Michael rubbed his mouth against the zipper, groaning, and Soren gripped his shoulders in alarm.

“ _Jesus Christ, Michael!_ ” he hissed, “We’re in fucking public, for God's sake!”

Michael lifted his head with a grin, “Guess you’ll just have to come upstairs, then.”

Soren growled as he shoved Michael away from him, and Michael fell back, jammed up against the car next to them. Soren unbuckled his seatbelt and got out, then grabbed Michael’s lapels to haul him to his feet.

Michael was grinning, the asshole, and Soren _really_ considered hitting him.

“Go upstairs, Michael, before I do something you won’t like,” Soren threatened, and Michael just grinned wider.

“Promise?” he purred, and Soren scowled, jolting Michael sharply.

Next thing he knew, _Michael_ was the one doing the pinning, and Soren gasped as Michael shoved him up against the side of his own car. A fistful of Soren’s hair in Michael’s big hand and his head was pulled back, exposing is throat.

“The fuck-?!” Soren panted in alarm, and Michael crowded him tighter against the car.

“Tell me your safeword,” Michael murmured, and Soren froze, mind racing. He had most certainly _not_ told Michael about that little side of his sexuality, and panic was starting to rise in his throat.

“Come on, man, it’s so obvious. And it’s _hot_ , lets play around,” Michael said encouragingly, running his pointy nose along Soren’s throat, “Wanna make you feel good.”

Soren was torn between freaking out, being angry and humiliated, and sudden, sharp _want_. Michael man-handled him in bed all the time, that wasn’t anything new. But actual, safeword-needed submission? So far he had only trusted Katie with that, though the thought of Michael being in charge had crossed his mind.

Michael had a bossy and demanding personality, but he was also weirdly considerate when it came to sex. Soren had never once felt unsafe with him, and even he had to admit that the guy went out of his way to make sure that everyone was happy and satisfied whenever they were all together.

“Red,” Soren said quietly after a moment, “My safeword is ‘red’.”

“So boring,” Michael signed against his neck, causing goosebumps, “We’ll have to find you something more interesting to say.”

He pulled back, looking Soren in the eyes, “Do you want to safeword out?”

Soren thought about it. He _should_. He was still pissed at Michael for the debacle at the diner, he really didn’t _deserve_ to have Soren like this.

“I want you to understand that this in no way gives you permission to push me around outside of this,” Soren said instead, “I’m not your bitch, Michael. And I don’t even want this every time we have sex. You have to fucking _ask_.”

Michael smiled, and nodded, and pressed a gentle kiss to Soren’s cheek, “Of course. This is me asking, then. You okay with this?”

Soren really needed to work on his resolve.

“This is okay. But we need to get out of this stupid parking lot.”

Michael laughed and nodded, and let Soren go. Soren closed his car door and locked it, then followed Michael wordlessly toward the lobby of his apartment complex.

He considered all the possibilities of what Michael could have planned. They needed ground rules, that was for sure, and he listed them all in his head as they stepped into the elevator to head upstairs.

He was surprised when Michael didn’t even touch him during the ride up to the third floor, but he did give Soren a little sidelong glance and a wink.

Soren rolled his eyes.

Then they were in Michael’s apartment and Soren was suddenly nervous.

“Tell me your absolute ‘no’s,” Michael said, circling around him and sliding an arm around Soren’s waist from behind. He started kissing the back of Soren’s neck leisurely.

“Ugh-” Soren fumbled, “No sharps, nothing that’s going to make me bleed. No degradation or humiliation stuff. No weird bodily fluids.”

He felt Michael nod, “Same page so far. Can I assume you don’t want me to bruise you?”

“Nowhere that will show,” Soren mumbled, and Michael hummed approvingly.

“Anything else?”

“No sir.”

“Oh that’s nice,” Michael chuckled, “That’s very good.”

Soren felt a blush creeping over his cheeks. If Michael was going to be weird about it-

Suddenly Michael’s arm tightened around his waist and his other hand went to Soren’s throat, pulling him back against him tightly. He wasn’t squeezing, at least not yet, but he was using his grip to keep Soren pressed close.

“I’m going to bend you over my sofa and spank you,” Michael informed him in a hot whisper against the shell of his ear, “Objections?”

“No sir,” Soren breathed, starting to get shamefully turned on, and Michael hummed softly.

“Good answer.”

Michael shoved him against the back of his sofa, one hand on Soren’s shoulder pushing him down. Soren panted as he braced his hands against the cushions, the hard back of the sofa digging into his middle.

He jolted with a gasp as Michael landed a hit to his ass, the force of it muted a little by the fabric of his jeans, but still a solid _thump!_ A second hit immediately followed, and then a third and fourth, and Soren groaned.

Michael took a small reprieve to rub both hands over Soren’s ass and squeeze, and Soren groaned again, pushing back into it eagerly.

“Good boy,” Michael murmured, and Soren closed his eyes and hung his head as he panted. It was _stupid_ how much he was a sucker for that.

Michael started hitting again, alternating between each cheek with a steady rhythm. He didn’t increase the force of his hits as he went, which surprised Soren a little, but nevertheless it felt amazing.

He hit until it started to ache, and Soren’s legs were shaking. One particular strike made pain spark deep and aching and Soren squirmed with a gasp and a groan.

Michael immediately stopped, rubbing soothingly at the spot he had just struck. Then Michael’s hands were reaching around to Soren’s belt buckle.

“Still good?” Michael asked, and Soren nodded dumbly as Michael undid the fastenings, then tugged his pants down.

A strike against his bare skin and Soren’s legs actually buckled, the full weight of his body resting on the back of the sofa. A startled sound came out of his mouth without his permission, and Michael stopped, rubbing soothingly.

“Too much?”

Soren shook his head, taking deep breaths. The hits through the denim of his jeans had been a thudding, solid impact, leaving behind its own kind of achy pain. Now that it was Michael’s palm on his bare skin, though, the hits were sharp and stinging and the combination of the two pains was making him shake.

“I’m going to keep going,” Michael told him, “You know how to make it stop if you need to.”

Soren nodded, and Michael landed a sharp hit that made him cry out again. He scrambled to grab one of the pillows on the sofa, and buried his face in it to muffle the noise as Michael mercilessly landed four rapid-fire hits.

“Aw, don’t be shy!” Michael chuckled, “Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Soren would have flipped him off if he wasn’t too busy trying to breathe and also keep his cries muffled to a less embarrassing level.

Soren had to hand it to him, Michael’s stamina was pretty impressive. He didn’t seem to be tiring, just kept the slaps coming, steady and even.

Soren let him for as long as he could stand it, letting himself zone out and fall into the ache and sting until it became too much and he twisted away and gasped a breathless “Stop!’

Michael stopped, then yanked Soren up by his shoulders. Soren’s knees almost didn’t support him, and Michael looped one arm around his waist to hold him upright.

Michael was hard, he could feel it against his ass, and Soren groaned breathlessly at the way the fabric of Michael’s slacks rubbed against his hot, raw skin.

“Good boy,” Michael murmured against the shell of his ear, and Soren shuddered, loose-limbed and painfully hard himself.

Michael manipulated him away from the sofa, then pushed him to his knees.

“Get undressed,” Michael said, stepping around him until they were face to face again, and Soren looked up dazedly at Michael as he immediately fumbled for the buttons on his shirt.

All the while Michael just looked at him, his hands in his pockets and looking unnervingly calm despite the thick bulge in the front of his slacks.

Soren shed his shirt and dropped it to the side, then winced as he had to sit down in order to get his jeans the rest of the way off, as well as his shoes.

His ass felt hot, and the carpet’s scratchy texture stung his red, raw skin in a way that made him whimper and squirm until he could get on his knees again.

Finally Michael smirked, stepping forward and sliding a hand into the hair on the top of Soren’s head. He pulled up and Soren grunted, stretching up as far has he could toward Michael to alleviate the pressure.

Finally Michael bent down, his other hand cradling Soren’s chin and angling his head just right for a hard kiss.

Soren melted a little at the rough handling, and moaned against Michael’s mouth as his own hands reached up to grip Michael’s sleeves. He let Michael invade his mouth without an iota of resistance, and Michael gave a contented hum as he bit Soren’s bottom lip.

Soren’s dick twitched and he groaned, chasing Michael’s mouth as he pulled away.

“Lovely,” Michael laughed softly, brushing Soren’s cheek with the back of his fingers, “So lovely.”

Soren felt his flushed face grow a shade darker at the words, and Michael smiled widely at him.

“Stay on your knees, and follow me,” he instructed, letting Soren go and standing upright. Without even a second glance he made his way in the direction of his bedroom, and Soren caught his breath for a second before following wordlessly.

Soren’s pace was slower, crawling forward on his knees, and Michael was sitting on the end of his bed by the time Soren made his way through the doorway.

Soren’s knees ached a little as he reached the bed, and Michael reached out to him when he was finally close enough. He cupped Soren’s face between both of his hands and leaned down to kiss him again.

“I want you to blow me,” Michael informed him, “Are you going to be a good boy and do that?”

Soren nodded mutely, and Michael pulled away, leaning back on both arms, “Get to it, then.”

Soren went for the fastenings on Michael’s suit pants, sliding the belt out of it’s buckle and undoing the button and zipper quickly. Michael just watched, making no move to help him and just waiting calmly for Soren to get started.

Michael’s dick was flushed and rigid as he carefully pulled it out from the confines of his clothing, and Soren was more than happy to duck his head and take it into his mouth.

Michael made a contented sound, and Soren rubbed his tongue on the underside of the head languidly. Michael’s hips flexed up into it, and Soren glanced up as he sank more of his mouth down onto Michael’s dick.

Michael watched avidly, his lips slightly parted and a light blush on his cheeks. Soren smirked a little as he refocused on the task at hand.

He started off slow, rising and falling at a temperate pace and making his mouth relaxed and wet. He waited until Michael gave a little groan at the rub of his tongue again, before pushing down as far as he could and amping up the suction of his mouth.

Michael gave an honest moan then, louder and more turned on, and Soren hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head faster.

His hands rubbed Michael’s thighs warmly, and Michael reached for them, taking both of his wrists in one hand and pulling them up above Soren’s head. He rested them on his chest, hand still wrapped around Soren’s wrists, and Soren moaned as he fisted Michael’s shirt tightly.

“So good,” Michael breathed, “Fuck, that’s so good.”

Soren felt light, lost in the rhythm of his mouth and the feeling of Michael’s tight grip around his wrists. His dick was throbbing, heavy and hot between his legs, and he wanted _so badly_ for Michael to touch him.

“Enough,” Michael suddenly panted, “That’s enough.”

Soren pulled back, panting and glossy-eyed, and Michael groaned as he leaned forward to plant a messy kiss on Soren’s spit-slick mouth.

He stood up suddenly, and Soren gasped in surprise when Michael pulled him to his feet by his grip on Soren’s wrists. Another gasp when Michael shoved him roughly down onto the mattress, and Soren groaned as his sore ass made contact with the bed.

Michael moved around the bed to his bedside drawer, opening it and pulling out a condom and lube.

He came back around and put the items down on the bed, then grabbed Soren and shoved him onto his belly.

Soren’s dick was dripping, and his breaths came out as desperate whimpers. _This_ was the kind of rough treatment he craved; a firm hand to push him around and take his choices away.

Michael pulled him up onto shaky knees, and Soren pillowed his head on his arms and tried to calm his breathing.

A shocking, cold squirt of lube on his hole had Soren gasping with surprise, which turned swiftly to a moan as Michael pushed a slick finger inside.

Michael’s long, _stupidly long_ finger pressed in deep, and Soren squirmed at the feeling. It didn’t hurt, it was just intense, and Michael rocked his hand and rubbed his finger teasingly against Soren’s insides.

A sudden slap of Michael’s other hand on his tender ass almost made Soren collapse, and he cried out sharply and fisted in hands in Michael’s comforter.

“ _Son of a bitch!_ ” he grunted, squirming and clenching, and Michael chuckled.

“Can’t wait to feel _that_ around my dick,” he purred, thrusting his finger slowly and deeply.

“You’re such an asshole,” Soren groaned, and Michael slapped the other cheek even harder.

“Fuck!” Soren yelled, eyes watering at the sharp pain, and Michael soothed it with his hand a moment later.

“Mind your manners,” Michael reprimanded him, and Soren groaned again.

Michael pushed a second finger in, and that one _did_ hurt, but it was only a mild sting that faded as Michael worked his fingers in and out slowly.

Three fingers, then four, with only enough time in between for the pain of the stretch to fade away, then Michael was withdrawing his hand.

The sound of a condom wrapper opening and another squirt of lube, and Soren trembled slightly as he waited with baited breath for Michael to press in.

“Give me your hands,” Michael commanded first, and it took Soren a second for his brain to catch up.

When it did, Soren groaned and his dick twitched, and he hurriedly reached behind his back to allow Michael to grip his wrists.

“Good boy,” Michael purred, taking Soren’s wrists in one hand again and pulling him taunt. Soren shook, stretched out and eager and the first thick press of Michael’s dick inside him had him groaning loud and strung out.

“That’s it,” Michael breathed, when his hips were flushed tight against Soren’s ass, “That’s it, baby.”

Soren would have objected to being called “baby” if Michael hadn’t chose that moment to start moving, sharp snaps of his hips that slapped against Soren’s tender ass.

Soren pushed his groans and cries into the mattress desperately, his nervous system overloading and his cock throbbing almost painfully.

And Michael was fucking _relentless_ , his grip on Soren’s wrists tight and unforgiving while his other hand gripped Soren’s hip and pulled him roughly back onto Michael’s thrusts.

Michael kneed Soren’s legs further apart, allowing him to curl over his back and angle his hips down and in and Soren had a feeling he was going to pass out from the way it allowed Michael’s cock to peg his prostate dead-on with every thrust. If not from the sheer sensation, than from the way it stole his breath and made every exhale a cry.

Two sharp slaps of Michael’s free hand and white burst behind Soren’s closed eyes, his body clenching against his will around Michael’s dick and rubbing him _just_ hard enough against that pleasure spot that he couldn’t do anything but come violently all over Michael’s bed.

He dazzedly heard Michael groaning, and felt his thrusts gets uneven and erratic as he came too, grinding hard inside Soren’s ass and riding the tight clench of his muscles.

Michael’s forehead rested between his shoulder blades, and his breath panted fast and hot against Soren’s sweaty skin.

They stayed like that for a long time, Soren just shaking and sweating and breathing hard and trying not to pass out while Michael panted against his back and slowly softened inside him.

Michael finally moving jolted Soren’s brain out of the endorphin cloud he had been floating on, and he winced as Michael slowly withdrew and released his wrists. Then Michael was flopping down on the bed next to him and pulling him against his chest.

Soren was too pleasure-weak to object, so he pillowed his cheek against Michael’s pec and slung an arm over his belly.

“Oh for-” he slurred a second later, fumbling for the buttons of Michael’s shirt, “Get the fucking suit off.”

Michael gave a breathy chuckle and started tugging at his bowtie, “You love the suit, don’t lie.”

“It’s also unwashed and disgusting and I don’t really want to be pressing my face on it,” Soren justified, and Michael laughed again, but didn’t object as they worked together to get him out of it.

The shirt was soaked through with sweat anyway, it couldn’t have been comfortable, so Soren felt no guilt making him take it off.

Then they were skin to skin and Michael was petting his hand along Soren’s shoulders gently. It was soothing, and Soren was drifting off in record time.

He roused slightly when Michael shifted onto his side, putting them chest to chest. Michael's hand trailed down his side then laid very carefully over one of Soren’s ass cheeks.

Soren hissed a little, but Michael kept his touch light.

“Want some ice?” Michael murmured, “It’ll help if it hurts a lot.”

Soren shook his head, and Michael's hand moved away and slid up his back instead.

“You never answered my question,” Michael said a minute later, and Soren grunted questioningly, “Is it a suit thing or a Bond thing?”

Soren chortled, then sighed.

“Just a suit thing. Lots of badass characters wear suits.”

Michael chuckled, and Soren felt a kiss brushed against the top of his head. Michael did shit like that sometimes, but mostly it was with Daniel or Katie, so it always took Soren off guard when Michael would do it with him.

“I've never done that,” Soren suddenly realized out loud, and Michael hummed curiously, “Come hands free like that. I had no idea I could.”

“Yeah?” Michael sounded way too delighted.

“Don't be weird about it, Swaim,” Soren sighed, “Just take it for what it's worth and move on.”

Michael laughed and squeezed his arms around Soren tighter, “I am _awesome_.”

Soren didn't have the energy to talk Michael's ego down, so he just sighed and shook his head.

They didn't say anything else, and Soren let himself drift off for a while.

At least he wasn't mad at Michael anymore.


End file.
